


Nothing You Can Do

by hammy_ham



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Accidental Death, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2018-12-25 21:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12044718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hammy_ham/pseuds/hammy_ham
Summary: It was supposed to be another day in the ER for John. Another normal day of saving lives of people he'd never see again. But he didn't expect to see Alexander wheeled in on a gurney, and Thomas Jefferson in tears behind him.





	1. An Unusual Call

The hustle and bustle of the Emergency Room was like a second home to John. He'd been working and studying there since his days back in medical school. He loved the rush of adrenaline he got everytime someone was wheeled in on a gurney, and everyone rushed to help them. 

The hospital was located in a quiet area. Most emergency room patience were car crashes or children falling off their bikes, but that day was different. It was a Monday afternoon, and not much was happening. John was taking a break and talking to the nurses when the ambulance crew came in over the radio. 

_We have a twenty-four year old male, bullet wound to the upper abdomen. ETA five minutes._

John and a few nurses hastily prepared for the mans arrival. Shootings were extremely rare for them, and he knew they didn't have a lot of that kind of equipment. Looking around he could see the anxiety on the nurses faces, knowing they might not be prepared to save the man who came through the door. 

The EMTs burst through the door, one of them resting above the shot man, trying to stop the blood from escaping his abdominal cavity. John froze in place when he saw Thomas Jefferson sprint in behind them, only to be stopped at the door. He was practically sobbing. 

"John I..." he started. "I'm so sorry." 

He collapsed to his knees in sobs at the security guards feet. It was only then John noticed that he was covered in blood. 

He frantically turned his attention to the gurney. As they turned the corner he witnessed his greatest fear come true. He collapsed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the off-duty nurses run up to him. 

"I-it's Alexander," was all he could make out before he felt himself breaking down. He glared up at Thomas, who couldn't meet his eyes. He could hear the nurses calling for him, that they needed him. But he couldn't force himself to stand. 

The whole world seemed to go silent. The only noise he heard was the unsteady beating of a heart monitor. Then, in the next moment,

_He heard a flatline._

He pushed himself to his feet, and dashed with all his might to the section Alexander was in. He yelled at the nurse doing CPR to move, and fighting tears and sobs he took over. 

"Come on Alex... **please...**

It took almost ten minutes, but his heart finally restarted. The nurses all looked around at each other. Everyone in the room knew the consequences of going that long without oxygen to the brain, and none knew more than John. But that wouldn't stop him. He would still love Alex, even if his mind wasn't what it always was. 

When all was said and done, Alexander had an oxygen mask, and several monitors hooked up to him. John stood by his bedside holding his hand. Thomas came up to them. 

"It was an accident...I don't even know why I brought the fucking gun but...I just got so mad...I was just waving it as a threat I didn't think it would go off." He sighed. "I didn't mean to shoot him."

John looked at him. "Why did you wave it?" He asked darkly. "What the fuck did you think would happen if you waved a gun?!" 

Security came up to their room. Thomas shrunk back.

"In turning myself in. Keep me updated on his condition." 

He didn't let John respond before turning and walking out the door.


	2. Sorrow Filled Morning

"You're doing _**what?!"**_ John screamed at his superior. "You can't take me off his case...I know his medical history better than anyone!"

"I'm sorry Doctor Laurens," the man started. "But I can't let you accidentally kill the patient because you're too emotionally invested. Remember, it's a billet wound, not a disease," he explained. "You'll be treated no different than any other spouse would in this situation."

John let out a shaky breath, and rested his face in his hands. His mind raced. They admitted Alexander to the ICU after he was stabilized, and John knew he would almost never get to visit him. His business was strictly in the ER, and he almost never got a long enough break to go all the way across the building like that. 

"John," the man started from behind his desk. "Take some time off. That's an order."

Before he even had a chance to protest, the man raised his hand. "If all you can do focus on is your spouse, then I can't have you endangering the lives of other patiences. When you feel like your ready to come back, call me and I'll set up a psych evaluation."

Without a word, John stood up and left the office. He went toward the locker room and changed into his civilian clothing before retreting up to Alex's room. 

The hallways smelled so sterile it startled him. He had thought the ER was spotless but this...this was immaculate. He walked over to the nurses station and studied the heat monitors on the wall. Most of them held a normal rhythm, but there was one, just one, that was extremely slower than the rest. The nurse looked up and interrupted his thoughts. 

"Gun shot victim," she explained. "It's a shame really. He's slightly fortunate though. The bullet missed his stomach, but there's some talk about it most likely hit his pancreas." 

She smiled up at him. "I saw your badge I figured you'd understand what I'm talking about."

All he could do was nod. "Yes, actually I do." He closed his eyes. "Do-do you have a guess as to how long he'll survive?" 

The nurse pulled a file from one of the drawers and studied it. "I haven't been able to do a proper assessment," she started. "But based on the chart I'd say the poor guy won't last more than a few days."

John straightened his back, and walked away with a quiet "thank you". He had already called Lafayette and Washington, who were hopefully already on their way. He entered the room, and heard his breath hitch. 

Alexander was connected to around ten monitors all at once. His chest was gown-less, but he was covered by a thick layer of bandages and sensors for the monitors. He had a tube down his throat, supplying oxygen, and an IV supplying a harsh mix of pain killers and antibiotics. It felt like hours before he could look away, and force himself to read the chart on the wall. 

They had put him into a medically induced coma, which he figured was for the best. Alexander may have had a tolerance for pain, but he knew just how painful a bullet could be. 

He made his way over to the bedside, careful not to let his hands shake as he took his hand. He fought to hide his tears, as if Alexander would make fun of him. _'Don't cry over me, I don't deserve it,'_ He would say. But it didn't seem to matter. 

"I love you," was all he could whisper before he broke down in sobs.


	3. Steele

Lafayette and Washington spent the rest of the day with John, trying to cheer him up. When the sun set on the short winter day, he felt his heart sink as they reached for their coats. They wished him farewell, saying they wanted to leave before the roads got slippery. 

"You should go home and get some rest," Washington told him. "You won't be any use if you aren't rested."

John sighed and glanced over his shoulder and sighed before reaching for his own coat. The bitter air didn't even phase him as he got into his car, and drove out of the parking lot. 

When he finally returned home, everything felt different. The silence was eerie, the couch sat him much lower. There was no familiar smell coming from the kitchen, and the lights just didn't shine as bright. He felt tears well in his eyes as he slowly made his way to the bathroom.

He had promised Alex that he wouldn't touch a blade again. That he wouldn't sit on the crisp white tile, watching as the crimson blood dripped beneath him. He remembered Alex walking into the bathroom in the middle night, half awake, when he saw him on the floor. He remembered Alex frantically diving through the cabinets and drawers for something to stop the bleeding. _"John!"_ He yelled. _"You...You can do this...We can get through this together."_

That had been almost two years ago. His scars had almost faded, and life had returned to normal. But things had changed. Alex was his way of staying sane, staying clean. He didn't have him anymore.

He went to the hospital as early as he could the next morning on about twenty minutes of sleep, and subconsciously held onto his sleeves all the way to the room. 

"I'm sorry," he said once he sat down. "I know you didn't want me to hurt myself anymore...but I just can't handle not having you around." He let out a shaky breath, and grasped his hand. "The house is too quiet without your laugh."

After a few hours, he turned on the TV in the room. John hadn't thought they'd ever end up on the news, but there it was. He sat silently as the reporter talked about the shooting, and that Jefferson had indeed confessed. It was almost instantly that a nurse came in, and said a reporter wanted to speak with him.


	4. Holiday Season

The interview was long and grueling. John fought tears as they asked him questions he never thought he’d have to answer. He collapsed in the chair beside Alex’s bed, and rested his head in his palms. 

“You always said we could get through this,” he stated. “Now I’m not so sure.”

His heart hurt. He felt utterly alone, and there was nothing anyone could do. He was there for every procedure, every blood test. Day by day, Alex’s skin became a little more void of color. Every day, life drained from his body. With each passing hour, the nurses sympathetic looks became even sadder. 

It was December thirty-first the second time Alex coded. The steady, slow beat of the heart monitor had lulled John to a restless sleep, but the sound of the screening monitor awoke him, and before he could fully regain consciousness, they were dragging him out of the room. 

It was nearly midnight. John sat in the visitors lounge, trying to tune out the New Years broadcast. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he waited for a doctors news. 

It felt like hours before one of the doctors walked in. John shot up from his seat, trying to ignore the wave of dizziness that washed over him. 

The doctor let out a long sigh. 

“He should make it through the night, but I can’t promise anything longer than that.” 

John made the slow walk back to the bright hospital room. The nurses were covering his chest back up, but his bruises were still visible. There are some wounds, that just never disappear.


	5. When Skies Are Grey

Alex's primary nurse for that morning was a friend of theirs for a long time. She tried to keep John updated about his condition as often as she could. She always made sure she was the always to get John's consent if they needed to do a procedure on Alex, but John never thought he'd hear her ask for his consent to take Alex off life support.

She had a hard time saying it. The two couldn't meet each others eyes, and the doctor had to step in. John couldn't speak, couldn't move. All at once, his body caved in on him. He collapsed to the freezing tile floor, unable to mute his sobs. It took most of the nurses to drag him back into the cramped room in the ICU. It took what felt like forever for him to calm down. With shaky hands and red eyes, he picked up his cell.

George and Lafayette were there in minutes. John collapsed into them, sobbing into George's shoulder. 

"I-I c...can't," He finally managed. "He's all I have left..."

John stood up and tried desperately to regain himself. When he turned to look at Alex, it was like he was looking at an entirely different man. He looked no more than skin and bones, his skin was nearly void of color, and his hair and stubble had continued to grow. The others saw it too. They looked between each other cautiously, not sure how to comfort John. But he wiped his eyes, and called for the doctor on duty. 

George and Lafayette gave Alex a long, tear filled goodbye before going to the visitors lounge to grieve. John knelt down, and gave his beloved one final kiss. 

"We'll make it through this together..." he whispered as his tears dripped onto Alex's cheeks. He pulled himself back, and stood back by the window. They turned off the monitors, pulled out ventilators and feeding tubes. The nurse, through a shaky voice said,

"Time of death, eleven twenty-six A.M."

He couldn't watch as they covered his body with the bed sheet. He couldn't watch them take away the body of the man he loved. Through his blurred vision, he watched the snow fall past the glass. The world was muted behind him. All the hustle and bustle of the ICU had stopped, each doctor and nurse taking a few seconds to mourn the man they didn't even know. 

***************************************

"As long as I knew him, he was always one to pick a fight. He'd come back to our dorm in the middle of the night, covered in cuts and marks. And of course I'd always be up the rest of the night fixing him up. He waited for me after graduation. And the first question he asked me was if I could help him fix his broken nose." A slight chuckle echoed through the church. "We were married a few years later. I came home from the hospital, and proposed to him on our couch after he finished his bowl of cereal."

He gave out a shaky breath, and wiped his eyes with his hand. "I worked at that hospital for eleven years, and I never expected my husband to be wheeled past me on a gurney in critical condition. I think that during his time at New Hope hospital, he coded twice. He came back each time, like the fighter I knew he was. But when they asked me if they could take him off life support...I felt like I should have been the one in the bed. Like I should have been at the shoot out instead of Alex. But I wasn't, and I don't think I'll ever fully accept that."

***************************************

_John tried to move on. He tried his best to live his life like everyone else, but it just didn't work. He left the hospital, turned to self harm again, and committed suicide a few months after that. He was thirty-two. He couldn't wait to hold Alex in his arms again._


End file.
